Rarely am I at a loss for words (figuratively speaking). However, since B’s car windshield and a random stone made sweet highway love three weeks ago, trying to find a company who is a) willing to replace her windshield glass, b) has the materials available to do so, and c) is willing to do said activity at an agreed up on price is nigh impossible it seems.
One glass company treated her like a stereotypical woman; needless to say, B was quite upset (re: pissed). The glass technician (let’s give them a high-strung name) said that she would be better off to wait until the glass spidered or at least until next month when her inspection sticker runs out. B insisted that she get it replaced as soon as possible, which was the original plan. The fellow simply restated his position, walked inside, and left B fuming. Glass company two quoted us a price and said they would repair it in our apartment’s driveway. Cool beans, I thought, until they did not call the day of the appointment to confirm when they would arrive. Upon calling them, they claimed that they did not have the adhesive / sealant necessary for the windshield b/c B’s car is new (07 model). If we would run by the dealership and procure the adhesive / sealant, they would be happy to install it. Not that they should be responsible for procuring said product or anything.
Finally, glass company three originally matched the quote of class company two and said they would install B’s windshield tomorrow. However, upon confirming the appointment today, their representative quoted me the original price sans discount (about $60 difference). I stated that I was quote a discounted price; subsequently, I was put on hold for about five minutes only to have the representative state that they could take about $10 off the original price, leaving them $50 higher than my agreed upon quote, and that was as low as they could go. I told them it obviously wasn’t as low as they could go and that I would take my business elsewhere.
Glass company four is scheduled to arrive tomorrow at some point, and they have matched the quote from glass company two. We’ll see what happens. It shouldn’t be this hard to get a windshield installed for a reasonable price.
* * *
As my readership may have surmised, I have finished A Thousand Years of Nonlinear History, which ended on a mixed note. De Landa took more responsibility than most pomo authors by stating that heterogeneity for the sake of heterogeneity is not necessarily the supreme good considering the amount of turbulence caused by radical change. He also provided a nice overview of how the world is becoming increasingly homogenized linguistically, biologically, and culturally. Needless to say, he believes there are many problems with uniformity in these spheres.
My biggest problem, though, was De Landa’s insistence on waving his pomo phallus around by conjuring the Body without Organs (BwO) from Deleuze & Guitarri. Yes, using a phrase like that makes De Landa appear smart, but the currents, matter flows, and intensities he discussed earlier made plenty of sense without the injection of a new phrase accompanied by a painfully abstract vernacular. In some places, it read like a sophomoric attempt to combine geometry with marijuana-inspired philosophy. One of the first lessons I learned in college English was to avoid introducing new material in a paper’s conclusions. While this is a generalization, De Landa’s musings on the BwO were unnecessary and would not have been missed if omitted.
I also managed to start and finish Mao II by Don DeLillo this weekend. Absolutely fabulous fiction, and his observations regarding the voice of terrorism, the human desire for community, and the search for anything to believe in were done masterfully. At first, the book seemed disjunctive at best, but he weaved all the themes – Rev. Moon, terrorism, a reclusive writer’s life, the homeless in NYC, etc. – into one intense, unhappy collage. As much as I love the work of Ian McEwan for pure story telling pleasure, DeLillo succeeds on many deeper levels.
I’m currently reading a book on options trading. I won’t bore you with any reviews.
* * *
I am happy to announce that I’m about ½ way through revising unpublished Palsy Aria poems. My biggest find: how many times I sacrificed a difficult to express observation to mediocre language. Rather than take the time to craft the line(s) appropriately, I hurried through, thinking the idea itself would work on its own. Some of this occurred b/c I fell in love with sentence fragments; others b/c I’m just not a great writer. My other realization is that I often used excessive language b/c it sounded pretty rather than adding anything worthwhile to the text. I’m becoming increasingly comfortable with my voice, the realization that I’ll never craft extremely long, lyric poems. I don’t want to write minimal poems, but I do recognize that I’ll write short, terse, (seemingly) disjointed poems without sacrificing language or structure. I hope that difference is clear. I just don't want to have poetry length envy any more.
Anyways, I hope to finish revising the poems by this weekend and then pass them off to my editor (B). I’d like to give each of the poems another round or two in front of editors before deciding which ones to cut and which ones to include from outside material before putting this together in a somewhat finished format.
* * *
Recent additions to my bookshelf: the newest issues of Lungfull!, The Denver Quarterly, Fence, New Ohio Review, and 580 Split. Recent books include Atonement by Ian McEwan and Cultural Contradictions of Capitalism by Daniel Bell.
I’ve only made it through Lungfull! and Fence once, and I enjoyed both. Lungfull!’s poems are, for the most part, fun and whimsical. Wry, witty observations and observational pieces that provide a sharp moment of insight and a chuckle. I’m on the fence about Fence. None of the poems stick in my mind just yet (not usually a good sign), and the zine contains a hefty fiction presence, which means the poetry better be extra good. Sometimes it takes several read-throughs to fully appreciate some poetry, and I’m hoping that’s what happens here. NOR looks like it has a nice mix of traditional and chance-taking work, and I know 580 Split and The Denver Quarterly will push the boundaries a little, so I’m looking forward to settling down with these new issues, especially as I start concentrating on new writing in the near future.
* * *
B is back tonight after two days with her parents.
Golf Wednesday and a scramble Saturday. I’ve had the snap-hooks and club-throws. Needless to say, the club-throws are a direct result of the snap-hooks.
Until next time,
-j
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Top 10 Poetry Quotes
Not all of these quotes are poetry specific, especially mine (which are the second five); rather, some deal with writing in general. Since poetry is all the writing I do, it seemed appropriate. As referenced above, Bs are the first five and mine are the latter five.
Enjoy:
1) The poetry of earth is never dead. - John Keats
2) Poetry is a mirror which makes beautiful that which has been distorted. - Percy Bysshe Shelley
3) All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling. - Oscar Wilde
4) I wish our clever young poets would remember my homely definitions of prose and poetry; that is, prose = words in their best order, poetry = best words in their best order. - Samuel Taylor Coleridge
5) If I read a book and it makes my body so cold that fire could never warm me, I know that is poetry. - Emily Dickinson
6) Poetry is nearer to vital truth than history. - Plato
7) There is poetry as soon as we realize that we possess nothing. - John Cage
8) Never resist a sentence you like, in which language takes its own pleasure and in which, after having abused it for so long, you are stupefied by its innocence. - Jean Baudrillard
9) The imagination is the spur of delights... all depends upon it, it is the mainspring of everything; now, is it not by means of the imagination one knows joy? Is it not of the imagination that the sharpest pleasures arise? – Marquis de Sade
10) Words are loaded pistols. – Jean Paul Sartre
Enjoy:
1) The poetry of earth is never dead. - John Keats
2) Poetry is a mirror which makes beautiful that which has been distorted. - Percy Bysshe Shelley
3) All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling. - Oscar Wilde
4) I wish our clever young poets would remember my homely definitions of prose and poetry; that is, prose = words in their best order, poetry = best words in their best order. - Samuel Taylor Coleridge
5) If I read a book and it makes my body so cold that fire could never warm me, I know that is poetry. - Emily Dickinson
6) Poetry is nearer to vital truth than history. - Plato
7) There is poetry as soon as we realize that we possess nothing. - John Cage
8) Never resist a sentence you like, in which language takes its own pleasure and in which, after having abused it for so long, you are stupefied by its innocence. - Jean Baudrillard
9) The imagination is the spur of delights... all depends upon it, it is the mainspring of everything; now, is it not by means of the imagination one knows joy? Is it not of the imagination that the sharpest pleasures arise? – Marquis de Sade
10) Words are loaded pistols. – Jean Paul Sartre
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Tales from the Bedroom
Good morning everyone,
Any exciting stories over the holiday weekend? I slept most of mine away, which is a tendency I have to get over sometime soon. I look forward to extra time off – I could be doing this rather than working! – when, in realty, my day is just getting started at about the time I’d normally be off work. How slothful does that sound?
* * *
No poetry, and I’m starting to get sad about it. I meant to get an ink cartridge yesterday, but I was sidetracked by another event: our bed sheet ripped (and not from hanky panky. My wife, apparently, sleeps like an ocean of angry waves). So, in trying to remember what thread count and color of sheets to get, I forgot to look at what type of cartridge my vintage printer required. I’m just going to start pulling the poems up and manually rewrite them at this point.
And this whole postage hike thing has soured my feelings toward postage submissions again. 82 cents isn’t a ton of money, but it begins to add up, especially if places require postal notification of poems being accepted elsewhere (as if I have a shot of acceptance in the first place). Maybe just the occasional batch sent out to the old guard of poetry magazines, but there are numerous print mags that I’d love to get into that only take postage subs. Then again, there are increasing amounts that are happy with email subs.
I am thinking that, after I’m finished with Palsy Aria, I’m going to attempt more minimal / bare poems. Not necessarily in length but in terms of language. I’ve found, recently, that I don’t have the story-telling gift, that I can’t fill silence with rhythmic language or neat-o tales. Rather, I’m better turning language inside-out or brewing some weird syllabic concoctions, so that’s the route I want to explore. I’m thinking the title of my next series will be Psalms for No One, but I’m rather ahead of myself.
At some point, I’ll have to discuss my “poetics,” whatever the heck that means. I’ll begin the discussion when I know something definitive.
As an aside, probably half of Palsy Aria’s poems have been accepted, but I’d like to see that around two-thirds or three-fourths. Is that an acceptable number? I’ve seen many name poets have almost every poem of a collection accepted; conversely, I have several titles on my shelf where only a poem or two from the collection were published. I suppose it all depends on the quality of the work and, more importantly, how well the volume works as a whole.
* * *
As predicted, I am just about finished with A Thousand Years of Nonlinear History, and it’s a book that I highly recommend to anyone interested in grand historical narratives. I don’t know if it’s better than Diamond’s Guns, Germs, and Steel. It accomplishes more insofar as it examines world history through a broader disciplinary lens, but that doesn’t make it any “righter.”
The later sections on language have gotten a bit more abstract and have more pomo-isms that previous sections, but De Landa is also doing a fantastic job of grounding his assertions in a manner that brings everything into perspective. This volume has heightened my interest in Deleuze and Guattari’s work, but I want to read DeLillo, De Landa, Vonnegut, and Baudrillard (his first few economic works) more comprehensively before delving into new authors. Plus, I have two thick volumes on options trading and an absolute monstrosity that is Pynchon waiting as well.
A few additional highlights from A Thousand Years of Nonlinear History:
De Landa believes that capitalistic markets are characterized by the appearance of anti-market entities; otherwise, you simply have centralized marketplaces or meshworks of buyers and sellers with still heterogeneous interests. While he gives the reader a myriad of examples to support this notion, he focuses on the evolution of agriculture in the United States throughout the 18th – 20th centuries. For cities to grow, there must be an intensification of agriculture output (i.e. more surplus to feed an ever-burgeoning non-agrarian class). This intensification of agricultural output necessarily shortens the food chain, thus depleting the soil quickly. However, companies began to introduce manufactured fertilizers to regenerate the soil’s nutrients and, hence, allowed for more sustainable, intensive farming. A byproduct of this revolution was that many companies began to biologically engineer strains of crops to require high doses of certain chemicals only found in fertilizers. So, rather than merely working to replenish the soil’s nutrients, manufacturers have inserted themselves into nature, so to speak, and current crops are now dependent on excessive levels of fertilization in order to grow properly. Stated another way, agriculture cannot exist without industry. While agriculture was one of the last frontiers for anti-market forces, during the 19th and 20th centuries, these forces managed to find a way to dominate this market as well.
There’s a detailed, albeit somewhat familiar, discussion on germs and how modern medicine is essentially an arms race between research scientists and germs to see who can adapt the fastest. Interestingly, the reason germs can adapt so quickly is because their molecular structure allows for the transmission of “stuff” between different germs. Therefore, there’s a huge amount of genetic diversity, which accounts for how germs build up resistances to certain medicines and pass these resistances on so quickly. Since society is becoming less and less genetically diverse as the world becomes one homogenous gene pool, the body, plants, animals, and every other organic aspect of society is more and more susceptible to deadly strains of disease. De Landa offers an example of how, in the 1970s, a strain of bacteria almost destroyed an entire year’s worth of U.S. corn production. Crops are especially susceptible b/c industry has specifically engineered them to be increasingly uniform in their genetic composition.
The language discussion gets bogged down in places by linguistic masturbation (think Chomsky and Saussure) and hashing out differences between creoles, pidgins, minor, and standard languages. De Landa traces out an interesting history of the fall of Latin’s prestige, how Old English came into existence, and the rise and fall of French as the language of rationality and clarity. Obviously, colonization had tons to do with the various ebbs and flows of linguistic history. One particular point that caught my eye is that major languages, contrary to the popular belief in their “fixed” status, are the most susceptible to undercurrents from various pidgins, creoles, and minor languages. He references Deleuze’s belief that New York City is a city without a language b/c of all interaction between major and minor language as well as the dialects and “informal” terms. There are two or three specific mentions of “urban English” (think Ebonics) as a valid pidgin that is currently influencing the composition of the English language. (I believe many of the newest words added to the dictionary had distinct urban roots.) There are also discussions of the various colonial linguistic policies utilized by the Old World during their little global escapades into other lands. I won’t bore you with the finite details.
* * *
I did a quick search to ensure that I was spelling Deleuze and Guattari correctly and came upon an essay entitled Deleuze and Air-Guitarri, which is probably the coolest essay title I’ve seen in awhile.
* * *
That’s about all for now. Please, someone encourage me to begin revising and writing new poetry. I need a poetic kick in the pants.
Cheers,
-j
(Ever since B’s evisceration of the poor Amazon reviewer, I’ve been afraid that my posts are littered with typos. I was worried, but I’ll just let the typos stand as testaments to my fallibility.)
Any exciting stories over the holiday weekend? I slept most of mine away, which is a tendency I have to get over sometime soon. I look forward to extra time off – I could be doing this rather than working! – when, in realty, my day is just getting started at about the time I’d normally be off work. How slothful does that sound?
* * *
No poetry, and I’m starting to get sad about it. I meant to get an ink cartridge yesterday, but I was sidetracked by another event: our bed sheet ripped (and not from hanky panky. My wife, apparently, sleeps like an ocean of angry waves). So, in trying to remember what thread count and color of sheets to get, I forgot to look at what type of cartridge my vintage printer required. I’m just going to start pulling the poems up and manually rewrite them at this point.
And this whole postage hike thing has soured my feelings toward postage submissions again. 82 cents isn’t a ton of money, but it begins to add up, especially if places require postal notification of poems being accepted elsewhere (as if I have a shot of acceptance in the first place). Maybe just the occasional batch sent out to the old guard of poetry magazines, but there are numerous print mags that I’d love to get into that only take postage subs. Then again, there are increasing amounts that are happy with email subs.
I am thinking that, after I’m finished with Palsy Aria, I’m going to attempt more minimal / bare poems. Not necessarily in length but in terms of language. I’ve found, recently, that I don’t have the story-telling gift, that I can’t fill silence with rhythmic language or neat-o tales. Rather, I’m better turning language inside-out or brewing some weird syllabic concoctions, so that’s the route I want to explore. I’m thinking the title of my next series will be Psalms for No One, but I’m rather ahead of myself.
At some point, I’ll have to discuss my “poetics,” whatever the heck that means. I’ll begin the discussion when I know something definitive.
As an aside, probably half of Palsy Aria’s poems have been accepted, but I’d like to see that around two-thirds or three-fourths. Is that an acceptable number? I’ve seen many name poets have almost every poem of a collection accepted; conversely, I have several titles on my shelf where only a poem or two from the collection were published. I suppose it all depends on the quality of the work and, more importantly, how well the volume works as a whole.
* * *
As predicted, I am just about finished with A Thousand Years of Nonlinear History, and it’s a book that I highly recommend to anyone interested in grand historical narratives. I don’t know if it’s better than Diamond’s Guns, Germs, and Steel. It accomplishes more insofar as it examines world history through a broader disciplinary lens, but that doesn’t make it any “righter.”
The later sections on language have gotten a bit more abstract and have more pomo-isms that previous sections, but De Landa is also doing a fantastic job of grounding his assertions in a manner that brings everything into perspective. This volume has heightened my interest in Deleuze and Guattari’s work, but I want to read DeLillo, De Landa, Vonnegut, and Baudrillard (his first few economic works) more comprehensively before delving into new authors. Plus, I have two thick volumes on options trading and an absolute monstrosity that is Pynchon waiting as well.
A few additional highlights from A Thousand Years of Nonlinear History:
De Landa believes that capitalistic markets are characterized by the appearance of anti-market entities; otherwise, you simply have centralized marketplaces or meshworks of buyers and sellers with still heterogeneous interests. While he gives the reader a myriad of examples to support this notion, he focuses on the evolution of agriculture in the United States throughout the 18th – 20th centuries. For cities to grow, there must be an intensification of agriculture output (i.e. more surplus to feed an ever-burgeoning non-agrarian class). This intensification of agricultural output necessarily shortens the food chain, thus depleting the soil quickly. However, companies began to introduce manufactured fertilizers to regenerate the soil’s nutrients and, hence, allowed for more sustainable, intensive farming. A byproduct of this revolution was that many companies began to biologically engineer strains of crops to require high doses of certain chemicals only found in fertilizers. So, rather than merely working to replenish the soil’s nutrients, manufacturers have inserted themselves into nature, so to speak, and current crops are now dependent on excessive levels of fertilization in order to grow properly. Stated another way, agriculture cannot exist without industry. While agriculture was one of the last frontiers for anti-market forces, during the 19th and 20th centuries, these forces managed to find a way to dominate this market as well.
There’s a detailed, albeit somewhat familiar, discussion on germs and how modern medicine is essentially an arms race between research scientists and germs to see who can adapt the fastest. Interestingly, the reason germs can adapt so quickly is because their molecular structure allows for the transmission of “stuff” between different germs. Therefore, there’s a huge amount of genetic diversity, which accounts for how germs build up resistances to certain medicines and pass these resistances on so quickly. Since society is becoming less and less genetically diverse as the world becomes one homogenous gene pool, the body, plants, animals, and every other organic aspect of society is more and more susceptible to deadly strains of disease. De Landa offers an example of how, in the 1970s, a strain of bacteria almost destroyed an entire year’s worth of U.S. corn production. Crops are especially susceptible b/c industry has specifically engineered them to be increasingly uniform in their genetic composition.
The language discussion gets bogged down in places by linguistic masturbation (think Chomsky and Saussure) and hashing out differences between creoles, pidgins, minor, and standard languages. De Landa traces out an interesting history of the fall of Latin’s prestige, how Old English came into existence, and the rise and fall of French as the language of rationality and clarity. Obviously, colonization had tons to do with the various ebbs and flows of linguistic history. One particular point that caught my eye is that major languages, contrary to the popular belief in their “fixed” status, are the most susceptible to undercurrents from various pidgins, creoles, and minor languages. He references Deleuze’s belief that New York City is a city without a language b/c of all interaction between major and minor language as well as the dialects and “informal” terms. There are two or three specific mentions of “urban English” (think Ebonics) as a valid pidgin that is currently influencing the composition of the English language. (I believe many of the newest words added to the dictionary had distinct urban roots.) There are also discussions of the various colonial linguistic policies utilized by the Old World during their little global escapades into other lands. I won’t bore you with the finite details.
* * *
I did a quick search to ensure that I was spelling Deleuze and Guattari correctly and came upon an essay entitled Deleuze and Air-Guitarri, which is probably the coolest essay title I’ve seen in awhile.
* * *
That’s about all for now. Please, someone encourage me to begin revising and writing new poetry. I need a poetic kick in the pants.
Cheers,
-j
(Ever since B’s evisceration of the poor Amazon reviewer, I’ve been afraid that my posts are littered with typos. I was worried, but I’ll just let the typos stand as testaments to my fallibility.)
Friday, May 25, 2007
How to Start a Killer EBM Band
The post below is pretty funny. I've sanitized it a bit to take out the profanity; otherwise, it's just how I found it. This should be funny for anyone, regardless if you're familiar with the scene or not.
* * *
For all those who dream of a glamorous career in industrial music, look no further. Through use of mighty psychic powers, I have discovered the secrets to achieving unparamounted success in this enthralling scene. At first I was a bit doubtful myself, but after going over this a few times, I am convinced that these will indeed lead you to electrostardom... the creation of an EBM band.
Before our first step, some of you may wonder, "why an ebm BAND? wouldn't I be fine just as a solo artist?" That's total bull****. Who else is going to pretend to play all the synthesizers and fiddle with all the useless knobs on the expensive gear you've been collecting like a rat over the decades? More is better. Enough said.
Now that we've gotten that out of the way, the first essential step of creating an EBM band... before the name... before the sound... before the performances... it is absolutely necessary that you create an awesome band logo. Preferably something based off of a simple shape or medical symbol, but given a few spikes to make it look pointy and aggressive. So spiky and harsh that it pokes your eyes out just looking at it. This is an absolute must for aggrotech. Everyone knows an awesome logo can completely change the way people look at their band. Take my recent AIM conversation for example...
-----
Zebu909: Hey man, I just saw Psyclon Nine live last week. They rocked.
Wumpfanboy666: Psyclon Nine sucks. I could make better crap with a children's keyboard and a squealing cat.
Zebu909: Well at least their logo is awesome.
Wumpfanboy666: Well yeah, when you put it that way I guess they are pretty bad***.
----
There you go. Indisputable proof.
Now for the band name. Everyone knows that German is the international language of evil, so it's a pretty good idea to stick with that, regardless of what your songs end up like. Doch du kannst nicht Deutsch verstehen? No problem? Basically think of something that sounds demonic, militaristic, or medical and make the consonants harder. If it still doesn't sound german enough (or if nobody's accusing you of being a nazi yet), slap "Die" or "Das" in front. Here's a few examples to get you started.
Kommandeath
Dissekt
Die Blutschlag
Deathsturm
Das Menschenkill
Notice how most of them start with "D". This is a very sinister letter, and is associated with sinister things, such as Death, Darkness, Destruction, and David Hasslehoff.
Next step- stage costumes! Buy a bunch of goggles, face respirators, jackboots, and combat vests, and you're set to go! While not a requirement, dyed spiked hair and mohawks are a plus.
Now for gear- Even though you can make most sounds with a few good synths, electronic bands are judged by how many pounds of hardware they have. The longer your gear list is, the better, and the more other bands will revere you.
By now you're almost all set for your first performance. You've got the look, the gear, the logo, and the name. Even though you haven't made anything yet, hordes of rivetheads and ugly goth groupies will send you friend requests on myspace, raving about how hot you look in face paint and posting webcam pics of them writing your band name on their boobs.
But alas, one final, grudging step remains- actually making music. But not to despair! This can be easily solved with minimum effort. Take a simple trance kick. Now clip the [heck] out of it until it's harder than Michael Jackson at a playground, and loop it over and over again. Add some hats and a repetitive offbeat bassline, and some flanged saws playing random disharmonic notes. Add a break or two in for good measure, and finally top it off with sampling recorded from horror, war, and scifi movies, preferably "Hellraiser" and "Full Metal Jacket". If the sample is good enough (usually if it contains references to death and killing) you can get away with playing it for half of the song, greatly reducing the amount of effort needed for the following part- vocals.
We all know you can't sing. Just scream into a microphone and mess it up. If you can still understand the words you're saying, you're probably not distorting it enough.
Although it really doesn't matter what you're saying, lyrical topics should be limited to the following subjects-
Death
Genocide
Suicide
Persecution
Death
Antireligion
War
Tyranny
Death
Write, record, and repeat until you have a full album. If all your songs sound the same, change a few lead notes and use different samples. Nobody will tell the difference.
You've done it! Now that you've made a surefire hit album, quit your dayjob- you're going to spend the rest of your life touring the world and banging groupies.
When you finally get a Side-Line review, it will probably start with "this band doesn't sound much different from other harsh ebm acts", but will continue on to extol your genius and originality.
Congratulations!
* * *
De Landa's book is progressing pretty nicely; hopefully over this three day weekend, I can finish most of it. His current focus is on disease and the food network of cities (he uses scientific metaphors to discuss his points throughout, and I believe he uses molecular biology in this current section, but don't quote me on that). While the idea that Europeans achieved a significant advantage due to their unique and extensive immunities (and proof where they failed to settle/conquer/colonize due to disease), he has brought a rather unique perspective to examining cities. Rather than viewing city as hubs of activity and centers of creation, he contends that cities leech off the countryside in terms of resources and population. For example, he states that, throughout much of its history, London required approximately 5,000 immigrants a year in order to sustain its population b/c urban areas practiced forms of birth control earlier than generally acknowledged and that infant mortality rates were extremely high until well into the 19th century. As a result, it is important to view cities as meshworks of their surroundings rather than as stand alone entities. Cities needed crops from the countryside, resources being mined outside city walls, and a fresh labor supply. As opposed to cities today, which are relatively self-sustaining and can receive food supplies from virtually anywhere in the world, cities until the 19th century were directly intertwined with their surroundings. There are some other interesting tidbits about city walls and the evolution of war machines, but it's a relatively small portion of what he's discussed thus far.
It's pretty good reading, and I'll be interesting to see how this section and the final one turns out. Although this book attempts to position itself in contrast to Diamond's acclaimed text, it retains a heavy reliance on science. The difference is in the application: for Diamond, our surroundings played the most important role in how our societies evolved; for De Landa, the interaction between humans and the environment were, and continue to remain, impossible to predict, so it's ludicrous to claim that there's one main driver for development. In the end, though, both maintain that European dominance is almost entirely reliant upon fortunate historical circumstances and outcomes, with Diamond eliminating almost all human agency and De Landa fighting to make it part of the puzzle.
* * *
B is working all weekend on papers. We're going to eat Mexican tonight and possibly Italian tomorrow with my parents. I'll probably make it to the driving range one night this weekend, read quite a bit, and maybe, just maybe, open a book of poetry.
* * *
Peace,
-j
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
I cringe at the overwhelming stupid.
I am reading a novella (MY FINAL FOR THE YEAR, OH HAPPY DAY, OH HAPPY, HAPPY DAY) called Angels and Insects by A.S. Byatt. More specifically, I'm reading the assigned second half of the novel, a modern take on Victorian seances called "The Conjugial Angel."
Your trivia for the day follows thusly: "conjugial angel" was originally coined by the Christian mystic/philosopher Immanuel Swedenborg (yes, you may know him through Blake, who revered him). The term refers to the Swedenborgian conception that angels in Heaven's innermost sanctum were composed of a conjoined man and woman - so the angel, then, was the ultimately liminality of male/female, ultimate androgyne/asexual/ultrasexual... You get the point. This stuff interests the heck out of me.
Anyway. The story itself deals with a Victorian seance - Mrs. Papagay has lost her husband at sea and wants to call him back to say hey, so to speak. She's accompanied in her seancing (if seance can't be a verb, I just made it one) by a girl named Emily. Now, most people don't give a flip who Emily is, but it becomes a masturbatory frenzy for literature scholars when you realize that the Emily in "The Conjugial Angel" is, in fact, the Emily who was engaged to Arthur Hallam, Alfred Lord Tennyson's best friend who is memorialized for eternity in Tennyson's "In Memorian." Emily's involved in the seance because well, after Arthur kicked off (and she received a pension from Arthur's father who assumed she would never marry again because of her broken heart) she not only married, but kept the pension, too. The lost loves of these women, and the attempt to get them back, compose the crux of "The Conjugial Angel."
Now I said all that to say this. I was poking around online for articles and etc. about this book so I could get a handle on the criticism, and came across one of those good old Amazon book reviews. Although Angels and Insects was received well, "The Conjugial Angel" takes a lot of hits for being too obtuse - or, as my friend Dave put it, "a literary wank for literary wankers." Be that as it may, this was from one of the reviews I read:
"I don't understand why literature people feel so high and mighty all the time, or why authors get off on appealing to only a small elitist crowd who will understand the rest of what's really going on. The language in this book is overdone and Victorianish, and the author's way of saying "hey, I'm only for a few people, the rest of you are to stupid to read this. Well, let me tell you what, I'm a smart person and I was not intimated by this book."
I have to agree. She may not have been intimated by the book. I can honestly say that I have never been intimated by a book. But if you're going to rail against the established literati, and you don't want to be dismissed in a storm of contemptuous mockery and spiteful laughter, then proofread what you write.
I'm just saying.
And yes, I've made typos in my blog before. But in my blog I'm not in the middle of giving the metaphorical middle finger to an established group of people, I'm not trying to make myself look as smart as everyone else, and I'm not spewing embarrassingly ridiculous vitriol.
Proofread always, especially when you're ripping on something. Words to live by, kiddies.
- b.
Your trivia for the day follows thusly: "conjugial angel" was originally coined by the Christian mystic/philosopher Immanuel Swedenborg (yes, you may know him through Blake, who revered him). The term refers to the Swedenborgian conception that angels in Heaven's innermost sanctum were composed of a conjoined man and woman - so the angel, then, was the ultimately liminality of male/female, ultimate androgyne/asexual/ultrasexual... You get the point. This stuff interests the heck out of me.
Anyway. The story itself deals with a Victorian seance - Mrs. Papagay has lost her husband at sea and wants to call him back to say hey, so to speak. She's accompanied in her seancing (if seance can't be a verb, I just made it one) by a girl named Emily. Now, most people don't give a flip who Emily is, but it becomes a masturbatory frenzy for literature scholars when you realize that the Emily in "The Conjugial Angel" is, in fact, the Emily who was engaged to Arthur Hallam, Alfred Lord Tennyson's best friend who is memorialized for eternity in Tennyson's "In Memorian." Emily's involved in the seance because well, after Arthur kicked off (and she received a pension from Arthur's father who assumed she would never marry again because of her broken heart) she not only married, but kept the pension, too. The lost loves of these women, and the attempt to get them back, compose the crux of "The Conjugial Angel."
Now I said all that to say this. I was poking around online for articles and etc. about this book so I could get a handle on the criticism, and came across one of those good old Amazon book reviews. Although Angels and Insects was received well, "The Conjugial Angel" takes a lot of hits for being too obtuse - or, as my friend Dave put it, "a literary wank for literary wankers." Be that as it may, this was from one of the reviews I read:
"I don't understand why literature people feel so high and mighty all the time, or why authors get off on appealing to only a small elitist crowd who will understand the rest of what's really going on. The language in this book is overdone and Victorianish, and the author's way of saying "hey, I'm only for a few people, the rest of you are to stupid to read this. Well, let me tell you what, I'm a smart person and I was not intimated by this book."
I have to agree. She may not have been intimated by the book. I can honestly say that I have never been intimated by a book. But if you're going to rail against the established literati, and you don't want to be dismissed in a storm of contemptuous mockery and spiteful laughter, then proofread what you write.
I'm just saying.
And yes, I've made typos in my blog before. But in my blog I'm not in the middle of giving the metaphorical middle finger to an established group of people, I'm not trying to make myself look as smart as everyone else, and I'm not spewing embarrassingly ridiculous vitriol.
Proofread always, especially when you're ripping on something. Words to live by, kiddies.
- b.
T-Shirts for Everyone
For B:
For Daya:
For me (though I admit the previous shirt is probably the best):
For Daya:
For me (though I admit the previous shirt is probably the best):
* * *
I'm pretty confident that my family, B's family, or our church could ever see our blog, if only for our sense of humor and political beliefs. Anyway, I'm convinced that Jesus would either run as an Independent. He would absolutely own the televised debates, too, since He can smite at will.
Sorry, slow work day.
And sorry for poaching almost everything off Tshirthell.com.
Much love,
-j
Sorry, slow work day.
And sorry for poaching almost everything off Tshirthell.com.
Much love,
-j
Monday, May 21, 2007
If You Like History, You'll Like This Post
Kurt Vonnegut, having only read his book of interviews and essays, has already endeared himself to me through his candor, his bitter realism (as opposed to pessimism), and that dim strain of idealism that bursts through momentarily – generally right before some blackly humorous remark. He doesn’t pretend to know all of the answers, but, much like Camus, he has a passion for humanity and is deeply distressed at where we have taken ourselves. His mixture of humanism, realism, and a spiritual sort of hope allows the reader to immediately form an opinion of not only him, but also of the subject at hand without worrying too drastically about any inherent biases in his perspective.* His responsible atheism / agnosticism / Unitarianism is a refreshing change from folks like Dawkins who seem content on insult over intelligence. As I wind my way through a stack of next-to-reads, I’ll make sure to order Vonnegut’s acclaimed novels so that I have motivation to keep turning pages.
* Two things: in one essay, Vonnegut describes himself as a Unitarian (“Unitarians don’t believe in anything. I’m a Unitarian” was, to paraphrase, the wording he employed) and as an atheist in his wonderful Playboy interview. And, before my beloved or anyone else makes a comment about bias, I’m sure Vonnegut has his. I am just saying he’s good at presenting even the worst offenders honestly, such as when he discusses the rise and fall of Biafra (which, btw, is a simultaneously heart-warming and heart-breaking essay).
* * *
Rediscovering my history roots, I’ve started into Manuel De Landa’s A Thousand Years of Nonlinear History, which is proving to be a fabulous read already. Although I’m not sure why I enjoy these types of grand narratives, they are always fascinating in part to their attempts to synthesize so many diverse disciplines into one cogent story. Yes, this goes against my pomo foundation, but De Landa avoids most Enlightenment-related problems through a series of disclaimers and by utilizing a neo-Deleuzian methodology to escape problems of totality. Some of the pomo-and-science-speak gets cumbersome after awhile, not b/c the terms themselves are necessarily difficult to understand, but b/c the combination of geological and biological metaphors used in conjunction with this terminology – which is often used in pomo way, that is, the words do not retain their ordinary meaning – keeps the reader alert as to context and duplicitous meaning.
I’m only about ¼ of the way into the volume, but his descriptions of meshworks and hierarchies have, thus far, been illuminating. The idea that some cities developing in Europe had nation-state or city-state structures while others, generally coastal cities, allowed for a diffusion of ideas enables De Landa’s historical theories to retain a dynamism that escapes other works in this field. Similarly, his underlying beliefs that “changes” in European society do not necessarily represent progress (think getting better in some capacity) as far as simply change or, to use his terminology, “phase shifts.” To De Landa, phase shifts are random bifurcations when auto-catalysis occurs between two variables.
To understand auto-catalysis, consider the following: in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, as population booms allows cities to blossom in Central Europe and, even more so, along the Mediterranean coast, economics began to develop as well. Initially, currency was utilized by governments (used loosely – could mean lords as well) as a means to enhance tax collection. However, as economies began to grow, the need for a more centralized agency to bring together buyers and sellers emerged. As a result of growing cities, which brought together these buyers and sellers, along with the use of currency, an early version of the modern market economy was born. De Landa would call this auto-catalysis, and he would label currency as an intercalary element necessary to bring the heterogeneous buyers and sellers together.
The results of auto-catalysis are not known in advance, so, according to De Landa, exploring human history as predictable progressions is fallacious. China could have as easy developed a capitalistic (re: market structure), but it did not occur because China’s inputs into the auto-catalytic equation did not produce the system for various reasons (one being that China turned inward during its most prosperous periods, even moving its capital inland, thus exterminating the flow of fresh ideas that came from its former coastal capital). Europe had several similar advantages, including constant interaction between populations, city-states, etc. Energy / dynamism is a central theme in De Landa’s hypothesis, and it is his contention that as more energy created and transmitted throughout an area, whether by population, laws, or institutions, the more dynamic and prosperous the area has a chance to become. Yes, the area is still subject to bifurcations and the random results of auto-catalytic processes, but the potential is there.
Cognizant that De Landa is still performing a type of grand narrative function, I believe the room for dynamic interaction and a relatively innocent version of chaos allows it to avoid many of the trappings of its modernist counterparts, including the Diamond’s Guns, Germs, and Steel, which is a very persuasive book in its own right (but mistakenly minimizes human agency to the point it is relatively non-existent). I agree with De Landa’s (and Diamond’s) assertion that Europeans were not favored a priori over others b/c of racial superiority or other similar reason. Rather, geography, biology, and interaction with other cultures, combined with a healthy dose of luck, played central roles. De Landa asserts that the interaction between these variables was, ultimately, random, though, borrowing from Diamond’s research, the presence of certain variables (for example, domesticable plants and animals) certainly skewed the results at times.
More later.
* * *
My latest reason for not writing new poetry: I need an ink cartridge, and I’m too lazy and/or cheap to get one at the moment. With so many books to read, it’s been a pretty good excuse. But the siren song of a half-dozen unread poetry journals will soon be too much to withstand. I’m not sure if I’m avoiding revisiting Palsy Aria work or if I’m unsure where I wish to go next. Probably some combination of both. I’m horrible with promises I make to myself.
Best to everyone,
-j
* Two things: in one essay, Vonnegut describes himself as a Unitarian (“Unitarians don’t believe in anything. I’m a Unitarian” was, to paraphrase, the wording he employed) and as an atheist in his wonderful Playboy interview. And, before my beloved or anyone else makes a comment about bias, I’m sure Vonnegut has his. I am just saying he’s good at presenting even the worst offenders honestly, such as when he discusses the rise and fall of Biafra (which, btw, is a simultaneously heart-warming and heart-breaking essay).
* * *
Rediscovering my history roots, I’ve started into Manuel De Landa’s A Thousand Years of Nonlinear History, which is proving to be a fabulous read already. Although I’m not sure why I enjoy these types of grand narratives, they are always fascinating in part to their attempts to synthesize so many diverse disciplines into one cogent story. Yes, this goes against my pomo foundation, but De Landa avoids most Enlightenment-related problems through a series of disclaimers and by utilizing a neo-Deleuzian methodology to escape problems of totality. Some of the pomo-and-science-speak gets cumbersome after awhile, not b/c the terms themselves are necessarily difficult to understand, but b/c the combination of geological and biological metaphors used in conjunction with this terminology – which is often used in pomo way, that is, the words do not retain their ordinary meaning – keeps the reader alert as to context and duplicitous meaning.
I’m only about ¼ of the way into the volume, but his descriptions of meshworks and hierarchies have, thus far, been illuminating. The idea that some cities developing in Europe had nation-state or city-state structures while others, generally coastal cities, allowed for a diffusion of ideas enables De Landa’s historical theories to retain a dynamism that escapes other works in this field. Similarly, his underlying beliefs that “changes” in European society do not necessarily represent progress (think getting better in some capacity) as far as simply change or, to use his terminology, “phase shifts.” To De Landa, phase shifts are random bifurcations when auto-catalysis occurs between two variables.
To understand auto-catalysis, consider the following: in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, as population booms allows cities to blossom in Central Europe and, even more so, along the Mediterranean coast, economics began to develop as well. Initially, currency was utilized by governments (used loosely – could mean lords as well) as a means to enhance tax collection. However, as economies began to grow, the need for a more centralized agency to bring together buyers and sellers emerged. As a result of growing cities, which brought together these buyers and sellers, along with the use of currency, an early version of the modern market economy was born. De Landa would call this auto-catalysis, and he would label currency as an intercalary element necessary to bring the heterogeneous buyers and sellers together.
The results of auto-catalysis are not known in advance, so, according to De Landa, exploring human history as predictable progressions is fallacious. China could have as easy developed a capitalistic (re: market structure), but it did not occur because China’s inputs into the auto-catalytic equation did not produce the system for various reasons (one being that China turned inward during its most prosperous periods, even moving its capital inland, thus exterminating the flow of fresh ideas that came from its former coastal capital). Europe had several similar advantages, including constant interaction between populations, city-states, etc. Energy / dynamism is a central theme in De Landa’s hypothesis, and it is his contention that as more energy created and transmitted throughout an area, whether by population, laws, or institutions, the more dynamic and prosperous the area has a chance to become. Yes, the area is still subject to bifurcations and the random results of auto-catalytic processes, but the potential is there.
Cognizant that De Landa is still performing a type of grand narrative function, I believe the room for dynamic interaction and a relatively innocent version of chaos allows it to avoid many of the trappings of its modernist counterparts, including the Diamond’s Guns, Germs, and Steel, which is a very persuasive book in its own right (but mistakenly minimizes human agency to the point it is relatively non-existent). I agree with De Landa’s (and Diamond’s) assertion that Europeans were not favored a priori over others b/c of racial superiority or other similar reason. Rather, geography, biology, and interaction with other cultures, combined with a healthy dose of luck, played central roles. De Landa asserts that the interaction between these variables was, ultimately, random, though, borrowing from Diamond’s research, the presence of certain variables (for example, domesticable plants and animals) certainly skewed the results at times.
More later.
* * *
My latest reason for not writing new poetry: I need an ink cartridge, and I’m too lazy and/or cheap to get one at the moment. With so many books to read, it’s been a pretty good excuse. But the siren song of a half-dozen unread poetry journals will soon be too much to withstand. I’m not sure if I’m avoiding revisiting Palsy Aria work or if I’m unsure where I wish to go next. Probably some combination of both. I’m horrible with promises I make to myself.
Best to everyone,
-j
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Avert Thine Eyes if a Sensitive Democrat
I’ve started Vonnegut’s essay collection Wampeters, Foma & Granfalloons, which, for better or worse, is my introduction to Vonnegut. My impression thus far: he’s unwaveringly sincere. I haven’t read enough to judge whether he’s pessimistic or realistic, but his tone and opinionated style will definitely keep me engaged.
His comments on science fiction are priceless – the genre that is every editor’s urinal, where most writers (as in every genre) produce crap, and where the readership accepts subpar writing for the sporadic brilliant moment. (The same goes with discovering authors.) But, like an Inuyasha or any other anime hero that is constantly bloodied, the authors keep writing despite the stigma associated with the genre. And he admires sci-fi writers for that.
Also, according to Vonnegut, if you reference technology in any capacity, you write sci-fi. Since I used a gramophone in one of my poems, I now deem myself the worst sci-fi poet ever. I now leave vacated the position of worst poet in general.
* * *
Minima Moralia, to its credit, did have some incisive observations on the female struggle – i.e. leaving one male dominated environment (the household) to another (the working world). He didn’t offer any particular clues as to how women can rescue themselves from this quandary other than, much like Derrida, “play” would seem to be important. I realize this isn’t revelatory, but for someone who reads virtually no fem theory (women in groups of one or more still scare me), I enjoyed the consideration.
His eerily accurate comments that positive amounts of freedom are directly correlated with the foundations of Fascism should be reproduced and stapled to telephone poles. I don’t necessarily believe that America’s fascist by any stretch of the imagination, but it seems like the government is increasingly keeping tabs on our freedom, which I believe is Adorno’s point. And, of course, fascist tendencies will inevitably have to evolve to fit the day and age.
His extended discussion of occultism seemed misplaced and poorly disguised. His aversion to the supernatural – whether as a mainstream religion or as niche voodoo god – was already clear, and the philosophical posturing exhibited was exactly what soured me on much of his writing. He couldn’t find a comfort zone between expressing himself in commonspeak (Camus) or philospeak (pomo); perhaps, more to the point, he couldn’t adapt his writing for the circumstance. Unlike Adornoa, Nietzsche was able to eschew pretence when required, but he could also get his hands dirty in the technical aspects of philosophy when necessary, and Adorno’s writing seems mired in limbo.
* * *
I’ve returned to Unreal Tournament 2004 recently, which is still a wonderful multiplayer game despite what its age may indicate, especially for those of us whose computer isn’t top-notch anymore. If anyone would like fragged online, you should email me.
* * *
The following pictures in no way indicate my position on Mr. Obama, Mrs. Clinton, or any other political candidate. The only candidate I find remotely interesting is Ron Paul, and he’d probably fail b/c no one from either party would work too closely with him. After all, who wants their supply of pork reduced? Certainly no one from my fair state of West-by-God-Virginia, where Mr. Robert Byrd, a.k.a. “Big Daddy,” has made a political career off of siphoning government money to the state in exchange for having his name on roads, college buildings, and probably some orifice of my body if I look closely enough.
Regardless, I hope you’re open minded and party dis-affiliated enough to get a laugh from these. I know Daya will be fine as long as I don't desecrate his savior, Al "I'm Riding Global Warming to the White House" Gore.
I love you all.
-j
His comments on science fiction are priceless – the genre that is every editor’s urinal, where most writers (as in every genre) produce crap, and where the readership accepts subpar writing for the sporadic brilliant moment. (The same goes with discovering authors.) But, like an Inuyasha or any other anime hero that is constantly bloodied, the authors keep writing despite the stigma associated with the genre. And he admires sci-fi writers for that.
Also, according to Vonnegut, if you reference technology in any capacity, you write sci-fi. Since I used a gramophone in one of my poems, I now deem myself the worst sci-fi poet ever. I now leave vacated the position of worst poet in general.
* * *
Minima Moralia, to its credit, did have some incisive observations on the female struggle – i.e. leaving one male dominated environment (the household) to another (the working world). He didn’t offer any particular clues as to how women can rescue themselves from this quandary other than, much like Derrida, “play” would seem to be important. I realize this isn’t revelatory, but for someone who reads virtually no fem theory (women in groups of one or more still scare me), I enjoyed the consideration.
His eerily accurate comments that positive amounts of freedom are directly correlated with the foundations of Fascism should be reproduced and stapled to telephone poles. I don’t necessarily believe that America’s fascist by any stretch of the imagination, but it seems like the government is increasingly keeping tabs on our freedom, which I believe is Adorno’s point. And, of course, fascist tendencies will inevitably have to evolve to fit the day and age.
His extended discussion of occultism seemed misplaced and poorly disguised. His aversion to the supernatural – whether as a mainstream religion or as niche voodoo god – was already clear, and the philosophical posturing exhibited was exactly what soured me on much of his writing. He couldn’t find a comfort zone between expressing himself in commonspeak (Camus) or philospeak (pomo); perhaps, more to the point, he couldn’t adapt his writing for the circumstance. Unlike Adornoa, Nietzsche was able to eschew pretence when required, but he could also get his hands dirty in the technical aspects of philosophy when necessary, and Adorno’s writing seems mired in limbo.
* * *
I’ve returned to Unreal Tournament 2004 recently, which is still a wonderful multiplayer game despite what its age may indicate, especially for those of us whose computer isn’t top-notch anymore. If anyone would like fragged online, you should email me.
* * *
The following pictures in no way indicate my position on Mr. Obama, Mrs. Clinton, or any other political candidate. The only candidate I find remotely interesting is Ron Paul, and he’d probably fail b/c no one from either party would work too closely with him. After all, who wants their supply of pork reduced? Certainly no one from my fair state of West-by-God-Virginia, where Mr. Robert Byrd, a.k.a. “Big Daddy,” has made a political career off of siphoning government money to the state in exchange for having his name on roads, college buildings, and probably some orifice of my body if I look closely enough.
Regardless, I hope you’re open minded and party dis-affiliated enough to get a laugh from these. I know Daya will be fine as long as I don't desecrate his savior, Al "I'm Riding Global Warming to the White House" Gore.
If this didn't make your day brighter, you're a Communist (or way-too sensitive of a Democrat).
I love you all.
-j
Friday, May 11, 2007
If we’re stealing lines from Reno 911!, I must admit that I have an Oreo shaped hole in my heart at the moment. I remember bringing her home for the first time, a small ball of fur that easily fit into my palm, hissing the whole time. All paws and claws as they say. She did grow up to be planetary in size with a purr-box to match. Poop. B’s tribute is much more fitting, so read hers again. I just didn’t want to seem disingenuous by not addressing the event – I am a softy with most animals.
* * *
Last night, OTOH, I was terribly disingenuous at Buffalo Wild Wings, wherein I ordered a dozen “hot” wings for dinner. I made it through about eight before I finally admitted to B that my mouth was on fire. Yes, a total man moment, and I guarantee you that if I had been around several guy friends, I would have ate those dozen without a word.
Fittingly, the first thing I did when we arrived home was take a swig of Pepto. And another before bed. If I could buy stock in Pepto – just the delicious, chalky, pink drink – I would in a heartbeat. B and I tend to go through it.
* * *
I’ll finish Adorno’s Minima Moralia this weekend (I know, a reading speed record), but I’ve pretty much formed my opinions about the volume. I can do this since the volume’s style and content is pretty consistent. I was expecting something pretty brilliant, especially since it received top marks from B’s theory professor; however, I’m less than impressed, but I’m unsure if my reasons are valid.
First off, the book was written in the 1940’s. For most philosophical texts, this is an almost infinitesimal amount of time; however, when dealing with Marxism and aesthetics, the book is showing its age dramatically. The observations regarding societal trends have already come to full fruition, hence dulling Adorno’s barbs. While the undertone of his writing is critical of capitalism, he doesn’t do the best job at expressing his Marxist perspectives. Since we’re on the topic of aesthetics, his particular writing style seems to account for some of these problems: page after page of block paragraphs were all sorts of diverse topical matter mate and leave their spawn. So often, the material seems noticeably underdeveloped, and his closing summary remarks in each section concisely sum up the main points so well that one wonders why he took so long in getting to the end.
My other main quibble is his philosophy through example method. Sure, the numerous references to obscure works and authors is interesting and could prove fruitful in the future for reading material, but the underlying logic of his arguments necessarily suffers. Page after page of dry logical philosophy isn’t fun, but page after page of philosophy through example, while easy to read, doesn’t do much depth-wise for me. Nietzsche, whom Adorno frequently references, was much better at this type of balance. There’s something systematic about Nietzsche that just doesn’t manifest in Adorno.
Why am I so hesitant in simply stating that Minima Moralia is crap? As alluded to above, the topic matter lends itself to becoming outdated very quickly. Our hypercapitalist society has already proven his points over and over, and there’s no fun in reading a volume that’s self-evident from the start. He alludes to the “society of the spectacle” and the problems of mass culture throughout, but anyone who has read pomo work or took a moment to consider the implications of the media recognize the underpinnings of such thought. Considering these factors, I’m willing to cut the book some slack.
Another consideration is that, perhaps, the book can be read as almost prophetic. His societal observations were most certainly cutting-edge at the time, and many of his predictions have become commonplace. Undoubtedly, there’s much worth in being ahead of one’s time.
So, considering these factors and my erroneous expectations, I’m willing to say that, while Minima Moralia isn’t my favorite book, many of the reasons it fails may actually be strengths of Adorno himself. And b/c I’ve read many thinkers who have based their writing on the Frankfurt School and Adorno himself.
* * *
I think Kurt Vonnegut is next.
* * *
I just ordered two books on options trading since I only have a superficial knowledge of these financial instruments. I understanding buying / selling puts and calls, but I’m not strong on much else. I also ordered System Syn and FGFC820’s new albums. I’ll be buying Grendel’s newest when it hits in June.
* * *
My wit won’t come out today. I apologize for the dull post. For your pleasure (click for a larger view):
* * *
Last night, OTOH, I was terribly disingenuous at Buffalo Wild Wings, wherein I ordered a dozen “hot” wings for dinner. I made it through about eight before I finally admitted to B that my mouth was on fire. Yes, a total man moment, and I guarantee you that if I had been around several guy friends, I would have ate those dozen without a word.
Fittingly, the first thing I did when we arrived home was take a swig of Pepto. And another before bed. If I could buy stock in Pepto – just the delicious, chalky, pink drink – I would in a heartbeat. B and I tend to go through it.
* * *
I’ll finish Adorno’s Minima Moralia this weekend (I know, a reading speed record), but I’ve pretty much formed my opinions about the volume. I can do this since the volume’s style and content is pretty consistent. I was expecting something pretty brilliant, especially since it received top marks from B’s theory professor; however, I’m less than impressed, but I’m unsure if my reasons are valid.
First off, the book was written in the 1940’s. For most philosophical texts, this is an almost infinitesimal amount of time; however, when dealing with Marxism and aesthetics, the book is showing its age dramatically. The observations regarding societal trends have already come to full fruition, hence dulling Adorno’s barbs. While the undertone of his writing is critical of capitalism, he doesn’t do the best job at expressing his Marxist perspectives. Since we’re on the topic of aesthetics, his particular writing style seems to account for some of these problems: page after page of block paragraphs were all sorts of diverse topical matter mate and leave their spawn. So often, the material seems noticeably underdeveloped, and his closing summary remarks in each section concisely sum up the main points so well that one wonders why he took so long in getting to the end.
My other main quibble is his philosophy through example method. Sure, the numerous references to obscure works and authors is interesting and could prove fruitful in the future for reading material, but the underlying logic of his arguments necessarily suffers. Page after page of dry logical philosophy isn’t fun, but page after page of philosophy through example, while easy to read, doesn’t do much depth-wise for me. Nietzsche, whom Adorno frequently references, was much better at this type of balance. There’s something systematic about Nietzsche that just doesn’t manifest in Adorno.
Why am I so hesitant in simply stating that Minima Moralia is crap? As alluded to above, the topic matter lends itself to becoming outdated very quickly. Our hypercapitalist society has already proven his points over and over, and there’s no fun in reading a volume that’s self-evident from the start. He alludes to the “society of the spectacle” and the problems of mass culture throughout, but anyone who has read pomo work or took a moment to consider the implications of the media recognize the underpinnings of such thought. Considering these factors, I’m willing to cut the book some slack.
Another consideration is that, perhaps, the book can be read as almost prophetic. His societal observations were most certainly cutting-edge at the time, and many of his predictions have become commonplace. Undoubtedly, there’s much worth in being ahead of one’s time.
So, considering these factors and my erroneous expectations, I’m willing to say that, while Minima Moralia isn’t my favorite book, many of the reasons it fails may actually be strengths of Adorno himself. And b/c I’ve read many thinkers who have based their writing on the Frankfurt School and Adorno himself.
* * *
I think Kurt Vonnegut is next.
* * *
I just ordered two books on options trading since I only have a superficial knowledge of these financial instruments. I understanding buying / selling puts and calls, but I’m not strong on much else. I also ordered System Syn and FGFC820’s new albums. I’ll be buying Grendel’s newest when it hits in June.
* * *
My wit won’t come out today. I apologize for the dull post. For your pleasure (click for a larger view):
The wings returneth, and so shall I with time.
-j
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Oreo - and two particularly revelant comic strips for your visual pleasure.
If I may indulge myself for a moment, a Keats poem - about cats:
Cat! Who hast past thy Grand Climacteric, How many mice and Rats hast in thy days Destroy'd - how many tit bits stolen? Gaze With those bright languid segments green and prick Those velvet ears - but pr'ythee do not stick Thy latent talons in me - and upraise Thy gentle mew - and tell me all thy frays Of Fish and Mice, and Rats and tender chick. Nay look not down, nor lick thy dainty wrists - For all the wheezy Asthma, -and for all Thy tail's tip is nicked off - and though the fists Of many a maid have given thee many a maul, Still is that fur as soft as when the lists In youth thou enter'dst on glass- bottled wall.
Granted, this poem does not go into the Keatsian canon as one of the greatest of all time and is in fact an epistolary poem, not meant for general consumption. That said, I chose it because the cat in this poem is the perfect example of the rough-n-tumble, scrappy, lovable, mysterious, capricious, creature I'm spending a moment on: Oreo.
She was J's cat for ten or eleven years, and since we have married had spent her time lazing with my in-laws. She was black ("black like a thousand midnights black," if we must have a Reno moment) and - well, not sleek, but more to love, right? She had a purr like a subwoofer, claws that kneaded everything within range, and preferred to sleep propped up against one of her peoples. She was omnipresent in the bathroom for showers, toothbrushing, and anything that involved the bathroom heater being on. (One time, I mistook her for a doorstop, and accidentally opened the door into her several times before realizing. She never complained).
Sadly, Oreo passed away today. And I wanted to take a moment and honor her on the blog as a great example of catness, and as one more reminder that a) a lot of the times animals are better than most people, and b) sometimes I think they exist to teach us the compassion, humor, and mercy we might not learn otherwise.
You were awesome, Oreo. May the Great Kitty Beyond be full of many bathroom heaters, concrete floors to roll on, and all the treats you can handle.
Cat! Who hast past thy Grand Climacteric, How many mice and Rats hast in thy days Destroy'd - how many tit bits stolen? Gaze With those bright languid segments green and prick Those velvet ears - but pr'ythee do not stick Thy latent talons in me - and upraise Thy gentle mew - and tell me all thy frays Of Fish and Mice, and Rats and tender chick. Nay look not down, nor lick thy dainty wrists - For all the wheezy Asthma, -and for all Thy tail's tip is nicked off - and though the fists Of many a maid have given thee many a maul, Still is that fur as soft as when the lists In youth thou enter'dst on glass- bottled wall.
Granted, this poem does not go into the Keatsian canon as one of the greatest of all time and is in fact an epistolary poem, not meant for general consumption. That said, I chose it because the cat in this poem is the perfect example of the rough-n-tumble, scrappy, lovable, mysterious, capricious, creature I'm spending a moment on: Oreo.
She was J's cat for ten or eleven years, and since we have married had spent her time lazing with my in-laws. She was black ("black like a thousand midnights black," if we must have a Reno moment) and - well, not sleek, but more to love, right? She had a purr like a subwoofer, claws that kneaded everything within range, and preferred to sleep propped up against one of her peoples. She was omnipresent in the bathroom for showers, toothbrushing, and anything that involved the bathroom heater being on. (One time, I mistook her for a doorstop, and accidentally opened the door into her several times before realizing. She never complained).
Sadly, Oreo passed away today. And I wanted to take a moment and honor her on the blog as a great example of catness, and as one more reminder that a) a lot of the times animals are better than most people, and b) sometimes I think they exist to teach us the compassion, humor, and mercy we might not learn otherwise.
You were awesome, Oreo. May the Great Kitty Beyond be full of many bathroom heaters, concrete floors to roll on, and all the treats you can handle.
* * * * *
Now, on a lighter note, here is a comic strip I have discovered of late called Piled Higher and Deeper - a strip that chronicles the life of Ph.D. candidates and grad students as they claw their way to their degree. I present two for your perusal, as they represent, with no exaggeration, two experiences I have actually had:
The above strip is not even a joke. Seriously. I have vivid memories of waiting literally for hours outside office doors for one stupid signature.
The comic above is a brief summation of my entire thesis experience.
And you know what? I have more to say about school, and academics, and the Pre-Raphaelites and incest, but I'll save it for now.
Bye, kiddies.
The above strip is not even a joke. Seriously. I have vivid memories of waiting literally for hours outside office doors for one stupid signature.
The comic above is a brief summation of my entire thesis experience.
And you know what? I have more to say about school, and academics, and the Pre-Raphaelites and incest, but I'll save it for now.
Bye, kiddies.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen.
Last night was my final MBA class. Our group received our Biofuel paper back from the professor, and, on the fine document, he wrote that he would personally look for a national conference in which the paper would fit b/c he said it was that good. It’s been awhile since I’ve had my academic ego inflated even a tad bit, so that was a nice gesture. Granted, it was a group project, so I can’t take all the credit as one individual in particular provided exceptionally useful information (he works in the oil industry).
And I turned in my take home exam for HRM. My last duty as a grad student: sell back my Legal Environment book for $20. Why not the HRM book? I purchased a paperback international version (that shouldn’t be sold in the U.S.) for cheap online. Save now or save later.
* * *
While still not finalized, I believe I’m taking this upcoming Monday off and heading to Athens w/ B. I can play a round of golf (or two) and meet some of her friends for dinner. The flexibility of my job is gratifying: so long as I have my work done, my boss is generally okay with letting me off; of course, it helps he’s a fellow golfer and takes off frequently.
* * *
Creeping closer and closer to revision weekend. I’ll wear a bib in case I vomit over my old drafts.
* * *
According to Forklift, OH, I’m Jason S. Fraley. That darn S. just moves around wherever it pleases. Whore of a letter, I say. Still immensely pleased to be in the journal.
* * *
I still have that $75 Amazon gift certificate I mentioned awhile back. Since I have quite a backlog of reading, I’m leaning toward buying a handful of CDs. Somewhere, B and her iPod are convulsing.
* * *
I read why our president says. I weep. I see all the ’08 candidates. I weep.
Anyone care to start a local revolution?
-j
Last night was my final MBA class. Our group received our Biofuel paper back from the professor, and, on the fine document, he wrote that he would personally look for a national conference in which the paper would fit b/c he said it was that good. It’s been awhile since I’ve had my academic ego inflated even a tad bit, so that was a nice gesture. Granted, it was a group project, so I can’t take all the credit as one individual in particular provided exceptionally useful information (he works in the oil industry).
And I turned in my take home exam for HRM. My last duty as a grad student: sell back my Legal Environment book for $20. Why not the HRM book? I purchased a paperback international version (that shouldn’t be sold in the U.S.) for cheap online. Save now or save later.
* * *
While still not finalized, I believe I’m taking this upcoming Monday off and heading to Athens w/ B. I can play a round of golf (or two) and meet some of her friends for dinner. The flexibility of my job is gratifying: so long as I have my work done, my boss is generally okay with letting me off; of course, it helps he’s a fellow golfer and takes off frequently.
* * *
Creeping closer and closer to revision weekend. I’ll wear a bib in case I vomit over my old drafts.
* * *
According to Forklift, OH, I’m Jason S. Fraley. That darn S. just moves around wherever it pleases. Whore of a letter, I say. Still immensely pleased to be in the journal.
* * *
I still have that $75 Amazon gift certificate I mentioned awhile back. Since I have quite a backlog of reading, I’m leaning toward buying a handful of CDs. Somewhere, B and her iPod are convulsing.
* * *
I read why our president says. I weep. I see all the ’08 candidates. I weep.
Anyone care to start a local revolution?
-j
Monday, April 30, 2007
I Can Read
I’m very pleased with myself: I started reading a book I started over Spring Break. I forget the exact title, but it involves some combination Marx, economic papers of 1844, and the Communist Manifesto (which I’ve read several times). The economic papers are interesting, and my objective is to read these papers, the Manifesto again, and then start into Baudrillard’s early economic writing, the books before he acid tripped his way into another dimension. I plan to sneak in some novels as well just to ease the dry reading. And I need to finish Minima Moralia, too, as I cannot generally start new books without finishing any outstanding projects.
One thing I have noticed about Marx’s economic papers is how much things have changed. The chapter on renting and landlords, while correct at its very base, is just completely non-applicable. True, maybe just updating the lexicon would help tremendously, but the examples / support he uses makes me furrow my brow (which, as B would note, is not necessarily an uncommon occurrence). That’s why I like Baudrillard’s early stuff – he applies Marx in a very pomo way that, imo, is a must in post-industrial societies.
* * *
Finished second in the golf scramble. Won some money. Enough to pay for the next scramble.
* * *
I’ve never had more trouble finishing a take-home test in my life. I had to turn down a round of golf with a friend tonight b/c I need to finish that test and take care of a few things around the house. How lame is that?
* * *
At least for another eight months or so, tax hours have been cast into hell once more.
* * *
Kinda dry today, gang. Hopefully, with a little stimulation, I’ll be moist with the honey of wit and wisdom soon. Feel free to help.
-j
One thing I have noticed about Marx’s economic papers is how much things have changed. The chapter on renting and landlords, while correct at its very base, is just completely non-applicable. True, maybe just updating the lexicon would help tremendously, but the examples / support he uses makes me furrow my brow (which, as B would note, is not necessarily an uncommon occurrence). That’s why I like Baudrillard’s early stuff – he applies Marx in a very pomo way that, imo, is a must in post-industrial societies.
* * *
The above reading schedule can only occur if B retrieves my copy of Simulation and Simulacra from Marshall. She has refused to do so thus far. Everyone join in a chorus of holding her responsible for my general level of stupidity.
* * *
Finished second in the golf scramble. Won some money. Enough to pay for the next scramble.
* * *
I’ve never had more trouble finishing a take-home test in my life. I had to turn down a round of golf with a friend tonight b/c I need to finish that test and take care of a few things around the house. How lame is that?
* * *
At least for another eight months or so, tax hours have been cast into hell once more.
* * *
Kinda dry today, gang. Hopefully, with a little stimulation, I’ll be moist with the honey of wit and wisdom soon. Feel free to help.
-j
Friday, April 27, 2007
First thing I want to do is congratulate Daya on his recent good news. He knows what I mean. My gifts to him:
And, of course, some Pez:
I can hear the profanity from here. And I didn't even mess up the homonyms.
* * *
I apologize for the lack of entries this week. My boss has been out of the office the entire week, so I’ve been forced to keep things afloat by myself. Of course I’ve succeeded, but that means I have less time to piddle.
* * *
Yes, piddle makes me sound like I’m 80. That’s okay b/c I am at heart (and hairline).
* * *
One more MBA class, and I’m through with my formal business education forever. Yes, there will be certifications more than likely, but the only inane professor I’ll have to deal with will be myself. And even though I loathe myself some days, I loathe myself much less than others. That’s called self-esteem.
B & I are going to my parents this weekend. I’m playing in a golf scramble, and we’re celebrating the above MBA graduation. No, I’m not walking in the ceremony. Rather than having a separate graduation ceremony for all Masters students the day before the main graduation ceremony like last year, they’re having Masters students walk with their undergraduate counterparts according to school on the main graduation day. I can’t begin to describe how stupid and even insulting this is for Masters students who deserve a little recognition of their own. But, as luck would have it, I am scheduled to golf that day as well.
* * *
I’ve just about received all open submissions back to me in one form or another. So I declare next weekend (after the golf scramble) Great Revisionist Weekend. I’ll rewrite some history while I’m at it – just like an English major.
Thank you for dropping by, patriots.
-j
"Memories of Paradise"
And, of course, some Pez:
I can hear the profanity from here. And I didn't even mess up the homonyms.
* * *
I apologize for the lack of entries this week. My boss has been out of the office the entire week, so I’ve been forced to keep things afloat by myself. Of course I’ve succeeded, but that means I have less time to piddle.
* * *
Yes, piddle makes me sound like I’m 80. That’s okay b/c I am at heart (and hairline).
* * *
One more MBA class, and I’m through with my formal business education forever. Yes, there will be certifications more than likely, but the only inane professor I’ll have to deal with will be myself. And even though I loathe myself some days, I loathe myself much less than others. That’s called self-esteem.
B & I are going to my parents this weekend. I’m playing in a golf scramble, and we’re celebrating the above MBA graduation. No, I’m not walking in the ceremony. Rather than having a separate graduation ceremony for all Masters students the day before the main graduation ceremony like last year, they’re having Masters students walk with their undergraduate counterparts according to school on the main graduation day. I can’t begin to describe how stupid and even insulting this is for Masters students who deserve a little recognition of their own. But, as luck would have it, I am scheduled to golf that day as well.
* * *
I’ve just about received all open submissions back to me in one form or another. So I declare next weekend (after the golf scramble) Great Revisionist Weekend. I’ll rewrite some history while I’m at it – just like an English major.
Thank you for dropping by, patriots.
-j
Monday, April 23, 2007
I Hate the Blogger Font Size Button b/c It Never Works
By definition, small and medium cannot be the same size. Otherwise, all bras would be labeled "bra" instead of [insert letter of the alphabet that most fulfills your fantasy]. If a bra's contents do not excite you, my apologies. I'm two posts away from blogger jihad.
* * *
Originally, this little nectar grove of cyberspace was supposed to have more of a literary bent, and I’m determined to follow through on that mission. Unfortunately, I cannot blame the deviation on anything noteworthy: just classes and associated projects. Longer tax season hours, two nights of classes a week, and two-three additional nights of homework / reading, made me treasure whatever free moments I could spare. Which means mindless entertainment like basketball or computer gaming. While warmer weather will certainly encourage more golf outings, that’s a tad more relaxing than career-enhancing (seriously) than HRM. So after the upcoming weekend, expect to see more blog posts related to literature, poetry, and theoretical crap that only dorks like myself, B, and Daya can appreciate.
* * *
I do have one poetry related question though: Why is Mark Irwin so popular? For his popularity, his work seems to be missing that essential ingredient that makes me take notice. I’m not crying generic, and he is definitely a talented poet, but his poems just seem unremarkable.
* * *
If you like good music, you owe it to yourself to check out the following bands (I provided myspace accounts for your listening pleasure where I could):
FGFC820
And One
Panzer AG
Derma-Tek
* * *
Originally, this little nectar grove of cyberspace was supposed to have more of a literary bent, and I’m determined to follow through on that mission. Unfortunately, I cannot blame the deviation on anything noteworthy: just classes and associated projects. Longer tax season hours, two nights of classes a week, and two-three additional nights of homework / reading, made me treasure whatever free moments I could spare. Which means mindless entertainment like basketball or computer gaming. While warmer weather will certainly encourage more golf outings, that’s a tad more relaxing than career-enhancing (seriously) than HRM. So after the upcoming weekend, expect to see more blog posts related to literature, poetry, and theoretical crap that only dorks like myself, B, and Daya can appreciate.
* * *
I do have one poetry related question though: Why is Mark Irwin so popular? For his popularity, his work seems to be missing that essential ingredient that makes me take notice. I’m not crying generic, and he is definitely a talented poet, but his poems just seem unremarkable.
* * *
If you like good music, you owe it to yourself to check out the following bands (I provided myspace accounts for your listening pleasure where I could):
FGFC820
And One
Panzer AG
Derma-Tek
Don't tell me you're going to listen. Go listen, and then tell me how sorry you are for not listening sooner. And then shower me with accolades.
* * *
I desperately miss being in an active intellectual / literary community. Most of Marshall is akin to a post-apocalyptic wasteland of Abercrombie & Fitch zombies, though the English department seemed to be a dim bastion of promise. (Says quite a bit about my MBA, I know.) I’m very envious of B in that regard as I miss the classroom catfights / discussions and just having the sense that I wasn’t the only well-read individual in a 100 mile radius. Wait, that can’t be true with Wal-Mart’s cornucopia of books . . . Heck, OU even has a golf course on campus.
* * *
Hippiecore slut was the best term I’ve heard since Nintendocore (Horse the Band).
-j
Friday, April 20, 2007
Stupid Hippies
Happy Earth Day!
Today, retarded hippies around the globe can celebrate all their brainless and uneconomical ideas to end world pollution. Related to this, one of B’s classmates, who Daya said should have been miscarried, sent around an email / petition stating that all coal mining should be halted. Granted, if we lived in a Utopia, we could all use our smiley face solar panels to capture the sun’s energy and power our Candyland-esque society. But this, sadly, is not the case. As soon as someone can explain to me we’ll replace all the jobs and energy created by the coal industry, I’ll listen. Because, unfortunately, even if we farm the entirety of
Now, I’m not some cold-hearted capitalist – everyone who reads this blog should know better – but I don’t believe in wasting billions of dollars in subsidies on biofuels that won’t make a dent in our energy needs, can’t be competitive on their own, and/or don’t reduce GHG emissions by any great measure. Yes, the government has a moral obligation to support biofuels because of their potential environmental benefits as well as their ability to replace exhaustible resources, but ethanol and biodiesel probably aren’t the answers. Yes, there are biofuels under development that are far superior to ethanol and biodiesel, but don’t tell the farm lobby.
Geeze, look at what these Earth Day hippies cause me to write. And no apologies if you’re a hippie.
* * *
Acceptance from The Akros Review came in my inbox. Yay!
* * *
For the first weekend in awhile, most of my efforts will be going toward relaxation. I haven’t written a poem in almost two months, but I’m still holding out until all of my schoolwork is officially done. Probably sometime next week.
* * *
Not much else at the moment. More insight, wit, and overall genius later.
-j
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Although My Return Was Not Foretold
First off, I am alive, which I’m sure is a relief to all four of you that read this blog. And B is doing excellent as well. Unfortunately, we’ve simply been overwhelmed with school / work lately, and it’s been difficult to find the time / motivation to blog. And, a week before Spring Break, B told me that I couldn’t write any poetry for two weeks (b/c I was supposedly very foul about my writing), and given that time off, I just never got back into the habit. But with the urging of Daya, I hope to begin posting regularly again.
* * *
Being just a few years removed from staying in a dorm and attending classes regularly, the VT events struck a chord with me. As I’m sure the case is at most schools, Concord would have been woefully under-prepared had such an event occurred. There would have been no escape from the dorms or from most classrooms because of the way they were constructed. Plus, both B and I know a few people from that area, and while we’re not sure if they’re still attending VT, it does make the issue a little more “real.”
But that’s bothering me more than anything at the moment – aside from the obvious fact that some nut-job decided to kill 32 people (he doesn’t count) – is the media coverage. The grieving isn’t and can’t possibly be authentic: I can’t imagine having to suffer through such a tragedy with cameras and Matt Lauer around every corner. While some details have come out about the shooter’s motives, the media acted earlier as if the event were all the more horrendous b/c the killer hadn’t left a note. Something about the killer’s silence made things more ominous according to our beloved media. If the shooter didn’t have a voice, how could these events have possibly happened? Of course they’re wrong, but that’s nothing new. What’s true is that the killings themselves were the only authentic / real event that occurred that day, and now with the arrival of the media, authentic / real grieving probably won’t be able to occur for vast amounts of the student / faculty populace. Yeah, I know this sound very Baudrillard, but his words seem apt at the moment. It's all a spectacle.
* * *
I haven’t been able to do much, if any, pleasure reading thanks to class demands. B bought me Pynchon’s newest (and it will be my first of his), a book by Vonnegut, and a collection of Benjamin essays for my birthday. Plus a space empire video game for my dorky side. I’m looking forward to reading all, though most of all the Pynchon who I’ve read great things about.
Of course, I’ve bought a few poetry journals here and there: Lungfull, Denver Quarterly (congrats to LT for placing a poem in there), and Fence just recently. I received contributor copies for The Eleventh Muse and Forklift, OH as well. Both volumes are superbly done.
I’ve had a little good news on the poetry front: 42opus, Relief: A Quarterly Christian Expression, Kulture Vulture, and The Sierra-Nevada College Review have all accepted some work in my absence. There have been some kind notes too, most notably from jubilat. Of course, there have probably been double / triple the rejections, but those are the odds I suppose. The good thing about not submitting anything for the past two or three months is that I’m getting everything back and can revise accordingly. I’m thinking about sending a few actual paper submissions once school ends (for good) this May. I’m looking forward to seeing where Palsy Aria actually stands stylistically and how significantly I’ll revise the poems that have been returned to me time after time. I do want to get started soon, though, as there are a few publications whose reading period ends mid-May.
* * *
B and I are trying to decide where to take a little vacation. Right now, Charlottesville is holding our interest (no, not b/c of you Rach). There’s a goth club nearby as well as a Shakespeare theater over which B is drooling. It’s supposed to be a replicate of the Globe Theater in Britain. Hopefully Charlottesville, being a college town and all, would have something of interest other than Rorty.
* * *
Aqua Teen Hunger Force Colon Movie Film For Theaters was freakin’ awesome as Carl might say. The opening sequence where the members of Mastodon are animated as a pretzel, nachos, etc. was one of the funnier bits I can remember. The whole movie is fantastic if you’re an ATHF fan.
* * *
Legal Environment final tonight. Better sneak in some studying while work is quiet. Have I mentioned that group work should be outlawed forever?
Love to all my peeps,
-j
* * *
Being just a few years removed from staying in a dorm and attending classes regularly, the VT events struck a chord with me. As I’m sure the case is at most schools, Concord would have been woefully under-prepared had such an event occurred. There would have been no escape from the dorms or from most classrooms because of the way they were constructed. Plus, both B and I know a few people from that area, and while we’re not sure if they’re still attending VT, it does make the issue a little more “real.”
But that’s bothering me more than anything at the moment – aside from the obvious fact that some nut-job decided to kill 32 people (he doesn’t count) – is the media coverage. The grieving isn’t and can’t possibly be authentic: I can’t imagine having to suffer through such a tragedy with cameras and Matt Lauer around every corner. While some details have come out about the shooter’s motives, the media acted earlier as if the event were all the more horrendous b/c the killer hadn’t left a note. Something about the killer’s silence made things more ominous according to our beloved media. If the shooter didn’t have a voice, how could these events have possibly happened? Of course they’re wrong, but that’s nothing new. What’s true is that the killings themselves were the only authentic / real event that occurred that day, and now with the arrival of the media, authentic / real grieving probably won’t be able to occur for vast amounts of the student / faculty populace. Yeah, I know this sound very Baudrillard, but his words seem apt at the moment. It's all a spectacle.
* * *
I haven’t been able to do much, if any, pleasure reading thanks to class demands. B bought me Pynchon’s newest (and it will be my first of his), a book by Vonnegut, and a collection of Benjamin essays for my birthday. Plus a space empire video game for my dorky side. I’m looking forward to reading all, though most of all the Pynchon who I’ve read great things about.
Of course, I’ve bought a few poetry journals here and there: Lungfull, Denver Quarterly (congrats to LT for placing a poem in there), and Fence just recently. I received contributor copies for The Eleventh Muse and Forklift, OH as well. Both volumes are superbly done.
I’ve had a little good news on the poetry front: 42opus, Relief: A Quarterly Christian Expression, Kulture Vulture, and The Sierra-Nevada College Review have all accepted some work in my absence. There have been some kind notes too, most notably from jubilat. Of course, there have probably been double / triple the rejections, but those are the odds I suppose. The good thing about not submitting anything for the past two or three months is that I’m getting everything back and can revise accordingly. I’m thinking about sending a few actual paper submissions once school ends (for good) this May. I’m looking forward to seeing where Palsy Aria actually stands stylistically and how significantly I’ll revise the poems that have been returned to me time after time. I do want to get started soon, though, as there are a few publications whose reading period ends mid-May.
* * *
B and I are trying to decide where to take a little vacation. Right now, Charlottesville is holding our interest (no, not b/c of you Rach). There’s a goth club nearby as well as a Shakespeare theater over which B is drooling. It’s supposed to be a replicate of the Globe Theater in Britain. Hopefully Charlottesville, being a college town and all, would have something of interest other than Rorty.
* * *
Aqua Teen Hunger Force Colon Movie Film For Theaters was freakin’ awesome as Carl might say. The opening sequence where the members of Mastodon are animated as a pretzel, nachos, etc. was one of the funnier bits I can remember. The whole movie is fantastic if you’re an ATHF fan.
* * *
Legal Environment final tonight. Better sneak in some studying while work is quiet. Have I mentioned that group work should be outlawed forever?
Love to all my peeps,
-j
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
It is I
Lately, and B can attest to this quite clearly, I’ve become exceptionally discontented (or foul if you must) with my writing. Not only is this due to a string of rejections (I’m looking at you, Rattle and In Posse!), but I also don’t feel like I’m making substantial progress in my writing or that I’ve even veered away from experimental territory into needless obscurity and mediocrity. As someone ill-versed in poetics in general, I’m finding it almost impossible to identify where I’m falling short, though, like the Supreme Court and pornography, I know it when I see it.
My poetry’s setting has been niggling at my recently. Many of my successful poems, those I felt prized the most even before they were published (and some that haven’t been published yet), seem to successfully remove themselves from being pinned down to one scene. On the other hand, many of my unsuccessful attempts seem to mire themselves (notice the active voice there?) in these same dreary, gray worlds that are pretty formless and don’t provide much of a canvas for words. B always says it reminds her of foggy Indiana, and I have to agree: post-apocalypse without the inconvenience of apocalypse.
The biggest difference seems to be in making the setting transient, allowing it to shift from object to object, reference to reference rather than forcing them to conform to some setting (except when I’m writing for a consistent setting, which isn’t usually the case). True, I do like all of my poems to make some conceptual arc, but a narrative arc per se isn’t my thing. All of this leads me to believe that many of my Palsy Aria poems, as well as many recent efforts, have failed to avoid this pitfall, have become stagnant because of the dominant setting rather than allowing the connections between images / references to develop organically. I guess, at this stage, it’s worth noting that I’m probably referencing a different type of setting than you’re traditional they were in a verdant field with big trees everywhere type thing.
I’ve also been upset with my poetry’s language. More specifically, their overabundance of connective / transitional material (it works for college papers) and lack of snappy, unconventional movement. B says I’m making the transitions / connections painstaking. (It IS nice to have an honest wife-editor.) It seems like when I strive for a particular tone or voice, I often include too much of the former, making the poem’s presentation pedantic and, overall, unbearable, and I don’t focus on keeping things moving. This is odd, of course, since I previously had an affair with off-kilter grammar, sentence fragments, and other abrupt forms that eliminated such problems, though left some poems lacking in ease of understanding. For whatever reason, I strayed from using these devices, perhaps trying to develop a more narrative tone; however, I’m thinking about purposefully returning to them and attempting to expand within the forms in which I’m most effective, which would provide me with a more useful experience. My inner-most fear (I’ll post my fantasy later) is stagnating, and whenever B says “you’ve done a poem like that before,” I wet myself .
But between school and work, I’ve nary had a chance to seriously consider anything referenced above – I’m hoping to seriously focus on some writing this week to see what comes of it. I did revise a couple poems that had made their rejection rounds, and B said their presentation was much better, though she did prefer the earlier, more out-there forms, but I’m all about content. FWIW, I am mercilessly conquering civilizations on Civ IV when my brain needs a minute to hobble forward.
I haven’t done any reading lately unless you count several HRM articles on pay secrecy and law textbook chapters; I’d like to finish Minima Moralia before I head to Myrtle Beach on spring break, which is about 1 ½ weeks away. I’ll be immensely pleased when my MBA education is over. Maybe I received a superlative education at my undergrad institution – in fact, I think I did – but this whole experience has been underwhelming. But letters are letters, you know?
I’m sure everyone will be envious that I’m attending a webcast on the fixed income market for 2007 here in a few minutes. It’s exciting stuff; I should post a picture of Alan Greenspan or Ben Bernanke to show you how exciting it actually is. Zombie exciting!
That’s about all for now. Hopefully something interesting and worthwhile next post.
-j
My poetry’s setting has been niggling at my recently. Many of my successful poems, those I felt prized the most even before they were published (and some that haven’t been published yet), seem to successfully remove themselves from being pinned down to one scene. On the other hand, many of my unsuccessful attempts seem to mire themselves (notice the active voice there?) in these same dreary, gray worlds that are pretty formless and don’t provide much of a canvas for words. B always says it reminds her of foggy Indiana, and I have to agree: post-apocalypse without the inconvenience of apocalypse.
The biggest difference seems to be in making the setting transient, allowing it to shift from object to object, reference to reference rather than forcing them to conform to some setting (except when I’m writing for a consistent setting, which isn’t usually the case). True, I do like all of my poems to make some conceptual arc, but a narrative arc per se isn’t my thing. All of this leads me to believe that many of my Palsy Aria poems, as well as many recent efforts, have failed to avoid this pitfall, have become stagnant because of the dominant setting rather than allowing the connections between images / references to develop organically. I guess, at this stage, it’s worth noting that I’m probably referencing a different type of setting than you’re traditional they were in a verdant field with big trees everywhere type thing.
I’ve also been upset with my poetry’s language. More specifically, their overabundance of connective / transitional material (it works for college papers) and lack of snappy, unconventional movement. B says I’m making the transitions / connections painstaking. (It IS nice to have an honest wife-editor.) It seems like when I strive for a particular tone or voice, I often include too much of the former, making the poem’s presentation pedantic and, overall, unbearable, and I don’t focus on keeping things moving. This is odd, of course, since I previously had an affair with off-kilter grammar, sentence fragments, and other abrupt forms that eliminated such problems, though left some poems lacking in ease of understanding. For whatever reason, I strayed from using these devices, perhaps trying to develop a more narrative tone; however, I’m thinking about purposefully returning to them and attempting to expand within the forms in which I’m most effective, which would provide me with a more useful experience. My inner-most fear (I’ll post my fantasy later) is stagnating, and whenever B says “you’ve done a poem like that before,” I wet myself .
But between school and work, I’ve nary had a chance to seriously consider anything referenced above – I’m hoping to seriously focus on some writing this week to see what comes of it. I did revise a couple poems that had made their rejection rounds, and B said their presentation was much better, though she did prefer the earlier, more out-there forms, but I’m all about content. FWIW, I am mercilessly conquering civilizations on Civ IV when my brain needs a minute to hobble forward.
I haven’t done any reading lately unless you count several HRM articles on pay secrecy and law textbook chapters; I’d like to finish Minima Moralia before I head to Myrtle Beach on spring break, which is about 1 ½ weeks away. I’ll be immensely pleased when my MBA education is over. Maybe I received a superlative education at my undergrad institution – in fact, I think I did – but this whole experience has been underwhelming. But letters are letters, you know?
I’m sure everyone will be envious that I’m attending a webcast on the fixed income market for 2007 here in a few minutes. It’s exciting stuff; I should post a picture of Alan Greenspan or Ben Bernanke to show you how exciting it actually is. Zombie exciting!
That’s about all for now. Hopefully something interesting and worthwhile next post.
-j
....the pain, the pain, the PAIN of being a college professor.
Today is the last day of classes this quarter at school and, as such, I am using today to conference with my students about their final research papers and their portfolios for the quarter.
A tour-de-force, no? This is the culmination of however-many-weeks of my teaching, exhortations, lessons, and activities. This is the time when they stand on the literary stage and make themselves known. This is the moment. This is the best they're going to be this quarter. I await genius.
....only to have one of my students wander in with a portfolio, one segment of which was to be full of freewrites (free writes) labeled: Free Wrights.
If a Romantic-scholar-cum-professor-cum-theorist cries when she is alone in her office and no one is there to hear it, does she really make a sound?
A tour-de-force, no? This is the culmination of however-many-weeks of my teaching, exhortations, lessons, and activities. This is the time when they stand on the literary stage and make themselves known. This is the moment. This is the best they're going to be this quarter. I await genius.
....only to have one of my students wander in with a portfolio, one segment of which was to be full of freewrites (free writes) labeled: Free Wrights.
If a Romantic-scholar-cum-professor-cum-theorist cries when she is alone in her office and no one is there to hear it, does she really make a sound?
Monday, March 5, 2007
Oh, the happies.
"You may assume that it is impossible to love a nonhuman semiotic ghost. But think twice, and you will also understand that it is our increasing commitment to high-tech media that enables us to find sexuality not only in humans but in nonhuman agents created from software. ....sound queer? But in the wake of Internet revolution, it is not ideology but high technology that has revolutionized the existing concept of sexuality, making it far more exotic."
- Takayuki Tatsumi, on a discussion of William Gibson's Idoru
I get to write a paper on a virtual doll-person. I get to write a paper on Idoru. I get to redefine kitsch, give the theoretical middle finger to Adorno, Greenberg, and McDonald, and then reread American imperialist culture through the lens of a cyberpunk novel. Oh, the intellectual happies.
Also - my school is #1 in the country for illegal music downloads, and while punishing the offenders has nevertheless refused to name names to the RIAA. It's like McCarthyism all over again, and my university is the last lil' socialist holdout. Love it.
And J, you can't be Brangelina's new baby. Your name would have to be Kumquat, or Didgeridoo, and you would have to come from an underprivileged, war-torn country. Which is fine. I'd miss you if you weren't around.
- b -
- Takayuki Tatsumi, on a discussion of William Gibson's Idoru
I get to write a paper on a virtual doll-person. I get to write a paper on Idoru. I get to redefine kitsch, give the theoretical middle finger to Adorno, Greenberg, and McDonald, and then reread American imperialist culture through the lens of a cyberpunk novel. Oh, the intellectual happies.
Also - my school is #1 in the country for illegal music downloads, and while punishing the offenders has nevertheless refused to name names to the RIAA. It's like McCarthyism all over again, and my university is the last lil' socialist holdout. Love it.
And J, you can't be Brangelina's new baby. Your name would have to be Kumquat, or Didgeridoo, and you would have to come from an underprivileged, war-torn country. Which is fine. I'd miss you if you weren't around.
- b -
Friday, March 2, 2007
Me, Me, Me
There’s always the discussion of poetics in blogdom, and I try to follow the discussion since I have no formal (or informal) background in poetry. I probably couldn’t name one or two characteristics of most poetic schools – Avant, Post-Avant, L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E, New Sincerity, or plain ol’ free verse, much less anything to do with formal poetry (can you say tin ear?) – so trying to define my poetics is like trying to remove my own kidney with Operation’s plastic tweezers. There are probably elements of surrealism and “experimentalism” in most of my writing, and while the subject matter is generally serious, I hope the sarcasm and humor isn’t lost on readers. And I always try to use an organic form with each piece. That’s about as close to an objective description of my poetics as possible. Woefully inadequate, I know. While my knowledge of poetics is severely lacking, I honestly don’t believe my writing fits into any one camp, at least based on my observations. My publication history points to that a little (as unimpressive as it is) since I’ve had luck in publications that seemingly have contrasting, or at least distinctly different, tastes.
Two thumbs down from Tarpaulin Sky on my latest submission. When I first began writing poetry in college (most of the poetry isn’t remotely indicative of what I write now), I submitted to many publications like Tarpaulin Sky numerous times without the slightest idea of its aesthetic leanings. So it was little wonder my hopeless imitations of Linda Pastan (who I still enjoy, btw) and other writers of a similar ilk were failing miserably at getting accepted. One, the writing was poor / beginner-ish at best, and, two, I was oblivious to a journal’s editorial tastes. What this extended tangent means: now that my writing is (marginally) better and more in line with the aesthetics of many journals that I frequently submitted to in the past, I wonder if the editors see my name, laugh, and trip over themselves with the form rejection letter. Paranoia, I know.
And I'm not saying any of this as a big middle finger to the poetic community; some of it borders on embarrassing. I desperately need a poetics primer so I could at least have a solid reason for dismissing the whole conversation. And the old warning not to publish too quickly is all too true.
I haven’t had a free second to read Minima Moralia this week, and this weekend is equally as full: I have an HRM assignment to complete as well as a Legal Environment midterm. In between, I’ll be bombarding myself with Civ IV to unwind or coaxing a poem out of hiding. B will also be busy writing two papers this weekend, so we’ll be a big bundle of happiness.
Oh, Brangelina have decided to adopt me. Excitement abounds. Sorry B.
Much love,
-j
Two thumbs down from Tarpaulin Sky on my latest submission. When I first began writing poetry in college (most of the poetry isn’t remotely indicative of what I write now), I submitted to many publications like Tarpaulin Sky numerous times without the slightest idea of its aesthetic leanings. So it was little wonder my hopeless imitations of Linda Pastan (who I still enjoy, btw) and other writers of a similar ilk were failing miserably at getting accepted. One, the writing was poor / beginner-ish at best, and, two, I was oblivious to a journal’s editorial tastes. What this extended tangent means: now that my writing is (marginally) better and more in line with the aesthetics of many journals that I frequently submitted to in the past, I wonder if the editors see my name, laugh, and trip over themselves with the form rejection letter. Paranoia, I know.
And I'm not saying any of this as a big middle finger to the poetic community; some of it borders on embarrassing. I desperately need a poetics primer so I could at least have a solid reason for dismissing the whole conversation. And the old warning not to publish too quickly is all too true.
I haven’t had a free second to read Minima Moralia this week, and this weekend is equally as full: I have an HRM assignment to complete as well as a Legal Environment midterm. In between, I’ll be bombarding myself with Civ IV to unwind or coaxing a poem out of hiding. B will also be busy writing two papers this weekend, so we’ll be a big bundle of happiness.
Oh, Brangelina have decided to adopt me. Excitement abounds. Sorry B.
Much love,
-j
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